Blame on My Knee
by temet nosce
Summary: The scarf he wrapped around her neck is heavy with words she won’t hear.


Blame on My Knee

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Almost nonexistent, but just in case: Fallout(s) and anything M/S.

Pairing: J/S (past tense)

Feedback: We're in this together now.

Summary: The scarf he wrapped around her neck is heavy with words she won't hear.

«»

"So."

Startled, Samantha drops her cigarette. It flies over the railing with an ease that makes her jealous. Someone's down there thinking it's raining ashes.

"Hey."

Jack looks tired. Wind from the balcony ruffles his hair, but it's a ruse. He remains unflappable.

He stands in the path of her smoke, "You and Martin."

She lights another cigarette. Wants the taste of something in her mouth besides Martin.

Inhales, "You know."

Flaxen hair blows it's way into her face. He doesn't brush it aside.

"For a while. It's a headache I can't get rid of."

Wind catches her sails, and she pulls her coat closer to her body, "Should I kiss it better?"

"Martin could. Isn't that all he can do?"

"Yeah, well," tosses the butt over the railing, "he's not married."

The wind picks up his tie. It dances between them until she grabs it. She pinches the knot with a thumb and two fingers. One fell swoop, and it's off his neck.

She tosses it over the railing, "All those black ties. You need color."

Watching his bland tie drop out of sight, "Martin's a colorful guy, huh?"

"He's a lot of things."

Wanting to touch her, he brushes the hair from her face after all, "He's not me."

Then his hand drops to his side, because he still wants to touch her.

"He's not. It's a small problem."

He takes a step closer. She doesn't notice, apparently searching for an end to this in passing clouds.

"I miss you, Sam."

"You're a slightly bigger problem."

He shrugs. Definitely been called worse than that.

Pulling something from his coat pocket, "Here. You left it inside."

It's a scarf she's had since she was thirteen. Been with her through many things, she could call it an accessory that doubles as her conscience. She makes no move to take it.

Moving forward, he takes the scarf and wraps it twice around her neck. It's light and brightly colored, everything he'd associate with her.

"Jack," she takes a step back, and winces. The cold bothers her leg. The scarf he wrapped around her neck is heavy with words she won't hear.

"Your leg's bothering you?"

She nods while fumbling through her pocket for the pack of cigarettes.

"The cold?"

With a cigarette halfway to her lips, "Yeah."

"Give me that," he takes it from her, putting it between his lips, "those things will kill you."

"You're invincible?"

He laughs as she lights it for him, "Everything's killing me. These just take a little longer."

She winces again. He starts rubbing her thigh with his right hand. Swears he can feel the scar through the fabric of her pants. Rubs harder, trying to erase it.

Takes the cigarette from his mouth, "Better?"

Leaning her cheek on the rough texture of his coat, she closes her eyes.

"That's good."

His chest rumbles as she feels him groan. It must be tiring trying to save everyone. She feels him shift a little.

"Here."

Looking up, he's holding out his wedding ring. She quirks an eyebrow at his offer.

"Throw this, since you're in the mood."

Takes the ring from him. It does not glitter.

"Jack?"

"Go ahead. So you know where I stand."

Twirling the ring around her thumb, "I always know where you stand."

"Maybe it's so I'll know."

She catches his eye, and then hurls the ring out of sight. Not out of mind.

He smirks, "Good throw."

She takes his cigarette, her fingers brushing his lips, "Good catch," and throws it from the balcony.

He's looking at her, and does not watch the pilfered cigarette drop out of sight. She wants to kiss him, just once. Like the nicotine, it's a fix.

Close enough that her own breath is coming back at her, "I don't bite."

He looks confused, but only for a second. That's all she needs.

Leaning forward, she lightly kisses him. Then with no pretense, her tongue glides past his lips, past his teeth, and in his mouth. Finding his tongue, she tries to seize every last taste bud. It's not gentle. The sun is not setting behind them. His hands are on her hips, one sliding inside the waist of her pants. She stops when she feels him pressed against her, stifling and hard. Pulling back, she runs her tongue over incisors.

Not this time. She did that for her.

Touching his lip, where she drew blood, "Liar."

"I don't want you gone just yet, Jack."

"Well," he heads to the door, "that's good to know. You coming inside?"

"In a little while."

Feels the rush of hot air from the opened door, "Okay."

The door is shut. She takes the cigarette pack from her pocket. Opens it, and curses.

It's empty.


End file.
